Musings of a Soprano
by SashaDaae
Summary: But he doesn’t know like I do- he was not promised the Angel of Music, was he?" The thoughts running through Christine's mind the night of her triumph, before her first meeting with her Angel of Music.


DISCLAIMER: Not mine, as usual. Meeeeh.

I also have to apologize for not having written in SO freaking long; the end of August and beginning of school has really gotten me wound up, and Advanced English really saps me of creativity. (lotsa thinkin' in that class dontcha know?!) So I apologize if this short story is sub-par and, well…weak….compared to my others, it's pretty much me rambling. This story is going to be the beginning of getting back into the gist of writing creatively as often as possible, English courses aside. So please, no flames, I'd rather use them to roast marshmallows and make s'mores. ^_^

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Raoul never really has been a wonderful listener.

No, he did not listen to his governess' pleas when he jumped into the sea to return to me my red scarf. He does not heed his brother's warnings about the dangers of the Opera and its women that occupy within and about. He is rather reckless, despite his appearance. Well, he does not abandon himself as freely as some men do- I have heard many a rumor about his older brother Philip circuit the ballet dorms-but he tries.

I suppose I should have expected this upon our reunion.

I find the amount of flowers currently filling the room to be quite interesting- I wasn't _that_ good, was I? Maybe I'm just being modest, everyone's been telling me how excellent I made the night, particularly Raoul. But I don't want to become big-headed like Carlotta (as awful as that sounds). Fame is being thrust upon me in one night, and I mustn't allow myself to get too cocky. And after all, I owe most of this night to the Angel.

Raoul doesn't believe me; I suppose I cannot blame him, because he's always seen things for what they are- stories are stories, and that is how they must remain., particularly the ones we are told as young children. But he doesn't know like I do- he was not promised the Angel of Music, was he? He didn't have the trust my father and I had, he didn't go through what I did, he was not sent to the Opera House and visited by the Angel Himself! He-

Things have changed, Raoul, whether you have noticed or not.

The air around me seems to change; I feel colder, more alone than I did when Raoul first left me here by myself. I shiver and make my way to the door- I don't like the idea of being alone tonight, and maybe the Angel would not mind if I spent the rest of the evening with my childhood friend. He is pleased with me, he has no further use for me, and it would be harmless, wouldn't it? As big as Raoul acts, he's like a church mouse at heart. He surely will not be upset with me, not after tonight….

It's locked. How is it locked? I shiver again, turning back, and now I am suddenly unsure of myself, unsure of what I should do. God, I hate this, this anxiety and confusion! My mind is blank, more blank than a clean slate. And then I know.

I hear his voice. Everything around me is erased, save the mirror I have turned to. My world is spinning rapidly out of control. For He is angry, angry with _him-_ maybe even with _me_!

All I can do is answer him. I am helpless. He is like the shepherd, I am his little sheep- I answer his call, no matter my own wishes. I am like the thoughtless puppet, pulled by the strings. My hands tremble, sweat. Oh God, please do not let Him be enraged at all with me, I cannot bear the thought of my greatest companion abandoning me.

I go to him. I am propelled forward, through the mirror, plunged into a world of darkness, into something strange and foreign. I recognize nothing, startled that it is a man in front of me and not a heavenly being adorned in ivory. A deeper part of me cries out- this is not natural, but after all what is natural anymore? A vicomte from my past who has laughed at me for my ramblings, an Angel who sings me lullabies at night, and here I am singing on the stage of the Paris Opera House with the whole world watching me from behind their glasses?

But God, what am I doing? Where am I going? Not to Heaven, for Heaven is up. Surely I am going to Hell.

I submit. It's all I can do anymore.


End file.
